Page 50 of It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas
Tom momentarily stopped walking, turned to me and shook his head, smiling his big Brinton smile, before continuing on. ‘It’s not something I’ve ever given much thought to. I mean, maybe. Also, I know you’re trying to divert my attention from what just went down in there, Mal.’
‘Huh. Busted.’
‘You don’t want to talk about it?’
‘Gotta be honest with you, Thomas – I reckon I’m a bit too pissed for deep and meaningfuls right now.’
‘Ha. I hadn’t noticed. How much do you reckon you drank?’
‘No bloody idea. Though I do seem to remember requesting a straw for my bottle of Prosecco at one point.’
‘Classy.’
I elbowed him in the ribs.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry, I went for playful nudge…’
‘Well, I think your elbows are pointier than you realise.’
‘I sharpen them every night before bed. Ryman sell everything these days, you know.’
‘You’re weird.’
‘I know. Thanks.’
I pulled up my honey-I-blew-up-the-scarf further around my face, and slipped on a patch of black ice as I did so. Tom grabbed my waist to stop me from falling.
‘Cheers. These bloody shoes have…’ I slipped again. ‘…no grip.’
‘I think it might be easier if you just grab on to me.’
I did. I wrapped my right arm around his slender yet solid waist, noting how my head fitted perfectly in the nook where the top of his arm met his chest.
‘Oh, I kind of meant hold on to my arm, but this works nicely too.’
I would normally have let go but I was pissed and wobbly and he was warm and it felt safe there. So I didn’t.
We walked in silence to the front door. I’d made sure that my hand had found the key already this time. But when I tried to insert it into the lock my coordination repeatedly failed me.
‘Sorry, I think I might need some help to…?’
I handed him the keys, trying my best not to fixate on the all-over goosebumps the sensation of his fingers touching mine for a nanosecond during the exchange had caused. He pushed the door open and stood aside to let me pass, handing me back my key.
‘Fancy, er, coming in out of the cold for a bit?’ It was a good job I didn’t know the questionable lyrics to ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ as otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d have burst into drunken song.
He cocked his head to the right, appearing to think for a couple of beats. ‘I’d like that. But I’ve got another early start tomorrow so I really can’t stay for long.’
‘Long enough for a hot chocolate?’ Man, I was storming through the Christmas movie tropes tonight.
‘Yeah, go on, then.’
He wiped his feet on the doormat and removed his shoes. I realised it was probably the first time I’d ever seen Tom Brinton’s socks. They were bright red.
‘Could you pull that curtain across the door?’ I asked. ‘Without wanting to sound like an awkward customer in a Brewers Fayre, there’s a nasty draught and me and the thermostat appear to be mortal enemies.’
‘Your accent is stronger when you’re drunk.’
